


Chinese Cooking Made Simple

by shinees



Category: NCT (Band), NCT 127 (Band)
Genre: Cooking, Feelings, Gen, M/M, Pining, Real Life, Romance, TAEYONG COOKS FOR WINWIN and its so cute tbh, Yuta Gets In The Way, a.k.a WinWin Pines Over Taeyong, my first actual nct fic lol pls give it lots of lov!!!!!, sicheng is just rly cute awh, taeyong wants to make sicheng happy and will do anything tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:57:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinees/pseuds/shinees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sicheng is homesick and Taeyong won't allow that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chinese Cooking Made Simple

**Author's Note:**

> omg my first nct fic yaaaa !!!!!! im only six pls don't be mean

Sicheng still hasn't gotten used to it. 

It's been a month already but his debut date feels more like a decade's conglomerate of training rather than just thirty-one days worth. The concept of privacy has collapsed completely to non existence and this holds true every time Sicheng goes to a shopping district without wearing a face mask and glasses and a hat - fans upon fans can recognize him by his mannerisms alone. 

They tumble between asking for autographs or taking pictures, and Sicheng likes interacting with the fans - he really does - but sometimes it crosses the border of _I'm awestruck and want to hug them all_ to _I'm overwhelmed and I want to go home_. 

Maybe it's his own fault for being introverted, but when Sicheng looks for comfort in the SM dorms, he doesn't always find it. The sense of familiarity is prominent there and the only thing that changes is the TV channel, but that constant familiarity is not always comfort. Sometimes it monotonous, sometimes it's grey, sometimes it's bleak and dull and dead. 

All the boys (save for Mark, Johnny, Yuta and Chittaphon) can spend the day outside and say, "Let's go home," without any hesitance in their voice, driving back to the dorms with evident smiles. They know where their home is - they are home. For them, Korea is home. 

For Sicheng, it's China. 

Sicheng misses China. He misses the way he knew every house and owner in his neighborhood, the way the street vendors would give him free treats because he's such a good kid and never got into trouble, the way everyone was proud of him and his hard work and his dedication for his career choice. 

It's more than just the small things like that, though. It's not just the blooming Peony's and the food during the New Year festivals and the Kongming lanterns of every color that light the city. It's his family and the love they showed him through the years. His sister and her vibrant smile and his father with the endless wisdom, his mother who helped him prepare for his future and his grandparents constant support. He misses it all. 

Korea isn't bad, not by any means. Everyone was welcoming and encouraging him, even some helping him with some of his struggles of adapting. Taeyong was the first to take him under his protective wing, telling him the ins and outs of living in Korea including the culture and language. Sicheng is appreciative, really, but sometimes things just feel a bit down. 

On days when everything seems out of place, Sicheng spends the afternoons laying in bed until the sun falls and the moon rises, listening half heatedly to the sounds that change from mid-day laughter to his members getting ready for bed. Today is like that, and Sicheng can hear Mark drop the shampoo bottle from the bathroom. 

Donghyuck laughs somewhere in another room, and Mark yells out over the noise of the shower, "Shut up!" 

Sicheng can't help but smile to himself - he cares a lot for his team, truly. He doesn't have anyone he's close to though, as close as he was to Kun, and he wishes he could be as tight-knit as Mark and Donghyuck seem to be; they act so brotherly and at ease with each other. Sicheng wishes him and Kun had debuted together, if not for the companionship, then for the assistance with the language. If not even those, then at the very least having someone to share in feeling lost and alone with. 

It's almost eleven o'clock when Sicheng is startled from his thoughts, hearing a knock that turns into being Taeyong standing in the doorway. Because Yuta is asleep in the same room, Taeyong opens the door quietly and makes his way to sits on the bed next to Sicheng, a soft whisper coming from him. "Are you alright?"

Sicheng is almost surprised that Taeyong noticed anything off about himself (as Sicheng is rather quiet about his feelings), but then again, Taeyong is their leader and has the responsibility to make sure his members are well.

"I'm okay." Sicheng says, because it's all he _can_ say. He doesn't have the words to express himself the way he truly wants to; he doesn't know how to say _I think about China every day and my heart hurts when I do._

He wonders if Taeyong can understand what he's trying to convey when he touches the inside of Taeyong's wrist gently, a touch so soft it's barely there, a desperate attempt to be translated as _I don't know what to do._ Even if Sicheng knew how to say this, he doesn't think he'd have the strength to vocalize it.

Taeyong moves his wrist away and it's almost saddening - perhaps he didn't understand after all - but Sicheng suddenly feels the warmth of Taeyong's fingers slipping into the empty slots of his own, and Sicheng feels a little bit better. He wishes he could see what Taeyong looks like right now, if he were nervous or at peace, but it's past their sleeping schedule and the lights have to be off. 

"Homesick?" Taeyong whispers, a fact disguised by the inflection of a question. 

Sicheng lets the unfamiliar word roll around in his mind but he can't remember if he's learned it yet. "What's that?" Sicheng asks, a phrase that he's repeated multiple times throughout the day. There are countless things he has yet to learn, but thankfully Taeyong seems set on teaching him (it's probably Taeyong's quality of good leadership coming through that makes him do so, but Sicheng hopes he isn't too much of a burden).

"Homesick." Taeyong repeats firmly. This time it isn't a whisper, but rather is spoken softly amidst the sound of Yuta breathing and the wind outside the window. "Homesick is when you're away from the place you call home and want to go back."

"Then yes." He answers, because it's true - Sicheng misses home with a fervent intensity enough to make him dizzy. The word _homesick_ seems to describe him perfectly. "I am."

"I'm sorry." Taeyong's voice lowers to a whisper again as the sound of the the bed creaking follows. It takes a few seconds before Sicheng feels arms around him, solid and warm for only a single moment before they dissappear, gone along with Taeyong's presence from the room.

Sicheng falls asleep with the word _homesick_ weighing heavy in his mind, running in endless circles until it crashes with the thought of Taeyong's warm hands on his skin.

:::::

Taeyong disappears for a day, the day after him and Sicheng have their little talk, and returns late at night with big grocery bags from a store that none of them have heard of. Sicheng wants to ask what Taeyong went out for, what he bought, and why he bought it, but when he approaches the bags, Taeyong cuts in. "Go to sleep, Sicheng. I'm going to be busy for a while."

Sicheng is only hurt for a moment before chastising himself; of course his hyungs are busy people - he shouldn't demand attention the way he does. Even compared to Mark and Donghyuck, he feels like a needy dongsaeng. Sicheng shouldn't mind heading off to bed if that's what Taeyong wants of him. Even if he initially wanted to spend time with his hyung who had been mysteriously gone all day, it's clear that the elder is busy.

Sicheng heads off to his room (trying not to sulk) and attempts to fall asleep listening to the sound of Yuta's shallow breathing mixed with Taeyong moving around dishes in the kitchen.

:::::

The smell of something strikingly familiar is enough to wake Sicheng from his sleep. It's a scent that reminds him of a summer spent in Zhejiang dancing until the sun dissappeared. It reminds him of the way his grandmother's house smelled on Saturday mornings before she took her weekly trips to the market, but Sicheng thinks that can't truly be it.

But it is. 

When he walks into the kitchen, eyes still drooping from sleep and muscles a bit tense, he lets his nose lead the way to a stove full of foods. Taeyong is stirring a large spoon around in a pot on the stove, surrounded by bowls and plates on the counter. He looks soft and cozy with his big robe on, and Sicheng is struck with the memory of a few nights ago when Taeyong's warm body was against his in a hug. Sicheng wants to hug him again, so he does. 

Taeyong hair is white and it tickles Sicheng's forehead at the contact; Taeyong's skin is lightly tanned and Sicheng loves the way it feels under his fingertips. 

"Oh, good morning." Taeyong says when Sicheng hugs him, a bit of belated surprise in his face. "You're awake. Just in time, too."

Sicheng forgot the word to ask _for what?_ so instead of talking, he takes a look at the empty dishes on the counter. The bowls are the same white and grey ones they use every morning and the plates same as well, but something feels different. Taeyong notices Sicheng's wandering eyes and says, "Go back to bed, okay?"

Sicheng is obedient and does as he's told, though the lingering suspicion doesn't dissolve easily. Even with the blankets pulled up to his nose, he can still smell the scent of... of _something_ familiar. 

Sicheng counts the seconds that go by, the clock reminding him every moment that it's already six in the morning. They should all be up soon, but Yuta looks peaceful sleeping and Sicheng likes the warm feeling of his bed too much to leave it again. 

He doesn't realize he falls asleep, but it happens, and Taeyong wakes him up with fingers running through his hair. It's a startlingly intimate gesture but Sicheng pretends like it isn't because Taeyong doesn't seem to be affected - Sicheng instead opens his eyes and lets his pupils adjust to the sunlight that filters into the room through the slits in the blinds.

"I made something for you." Taeyong says, and his voice sounds sweet and low and soft all at once; it's almost too much for Sicheng to comprehend this early. 

"Oh?" Sicheng asks, but it comes out quiet. 

"Yeah." Taeyong begins to smile, wide and beautiful and absolutely captivating, enough to distract Sicheng from his surroundings completely. "I'll go get it."

Sicheng imagines that the scene of Taeyong excitedly scurrying out of the room is very much like a little boy running to get his Christmas gifts from under the tree. He wonders what Taeyong was like as a child - mischievous, or thoughtful? a trouble maker or a ray of sun? Perhaps all of those things were dispersed unevenly throughout, and if it were true, Taeyong carried those traits to adulthood. 

Sicheng doesn't have time to think about it any more than this because Taeyong rushes into the room with a bowl and plate in his hands, utensils sticking out from inside his robe pocket. Sicheng watches as Taeyong sets down the dishes with care onto the nightstand near the bed, then standing back and admiring his work with a pleased expression.

"You made this?" Sicheng asks him, because the food inside the white and grey dishes are the same meals that his mother used to cook for him at home, his grandmother on Friday nights, and his sister who brought it to school from the store in a red plastic bag. The sight of the food alone makes his chest ache in familiarity, but the smell has memories flooding back to the surface by tenfold.

Taeyong sounds proud when he says, "I did." A few seconds pass by where Sicheng can only stare at Taeyong in some kind of amazement, unable to do anything else. 

"For me?" He asks for clarification. His eyes are probably very wide. 

Taeyong doesn't try to hide the smile that appears. "For you." 

It's contagious becsuse Sicheng smiles back, unable to contain the fondness that rises from his chest. Taeyong makes a gesture towards the food and says, "Eat." 

And that he does. With each bite, Sicheng delves deeper into his hometown, surrounded by the scents and tastes that remind him best of his happy place. Even if it's all in his memories, it feels like Sicheng is really back at home, sitting at the dinner table with his family asking him the same questions about school.

He smiles when he takes another bite of one of the dishes, chao mashi, disregarding the fact that it's not a breakfast item at all and just pretending like it doesn't matter, because it really doesn't. 

Taeyong looks a bit nervous with the way his eyebrows furrow, asking, "How is it? Is it okay? I might have made it too salty because the recipe was in Chinese and I cooked this at five in the morning." 

Sicheng is slightly stunned still, both from the situation itself and how good the food is. The only thing he can ask is, "Why?"

"Because that's when everyone is still asleep and nobody will ask me questions." Taeyong says, a laugh making its way through even if what he said was true.

"No." Sicheng tries, but he doesn't know how to phrase his thoughts. "I... why? Why for me?"

Taeyong looks like he's thinking before he gives an answer, much like when receiving a question during a variety show. He wears the same expression, thoughtful with the slightest edge of timidity. "I thought you might have needed it. You've seemed down lately."

The word _homesick_ is brought to the surface of his mind, but he doesn't know how to use it in a sentence so he lets it float around without using it. Instead, he says, "Thank you," hoping that those small words are spoken genuinely enough to convey how sincere he is. He _really_ means it.

It's in that moment that their moment is broken by the sound of bed sheets rustling and a voice suddenly saying, "What's for breakfast, o' amazing leader of ours?"

"Go back to sleep, Yuta." Taeyong says in a monotone voice. 

"Do I smell eggplant?" 

"No." Taeyong answers innocently as Sicheng puts a large bite of sweet and sour eggplant into his mouth. 

"Hey, are those dumplings?" Yuta jumps out of bed and walks over to the plate on Sicheng's nightstand. 

"Don't touch!" Taeyong swats away Yuta's grabby hands like an annoying fly. "Hands off, rodent." 

"Ouch." Yuta says, and ends up sneakily grabbing a dumpling when Taeyong isn't looking, too fast for him to react. "At least my hair isn't the color of Santa's decaying beard." 

Taeyong jumps up and gets ready to chase Yuta (or tackle him, who knows) but Yuta's speed competes with lightning and he's out of the room before Taeyong can reach him. 

Sicheng laughs to himself when Taeyong sits back down on the bed, this time a little closer. "I hope you're enjoying the food."

"I am." Sicheng says, and he has the sudden urge to wrap his arms around Taeyong and never let go. He's almost about to do it, too, before Yuta comes back into the room to ruin the moment again with, "I'm going to make breakfast for the guys. Spicy or sweet?"

"Sweet." Sicheng says, mostly because he imagines himself feeding a pancake Taeyong and the syrup making his lips shiny. He tries to erase the abrupt thought but it's too strong.

"Alright." Yuta says as he leaves the room, voice already disappearing. Just as soon as they think he is gone, he pops his head in again. "I won't tell the guys you made food." 

Sicheng and Taeyong both nod, knowing that if the rest of the members knew, they would quietly enter the room and use their aegyo for food (and it would work).

Yuta leaves the room, but then peaks his head out the doorway once more after a few seconds. "They'd be pissed you're not sharing. _I'm_ pissed that you're not sharing, but Sicheng looks cute right now so I'm letting this one slide just once." 

Yuta leaves again (though Sicheng and Taeyong don't believe it until they hear his footsteps down the hall) and Yuta yells out, "Be thankful, Lee Taeyong." 

Sicheng smiles and he doesn't try to hide it. He wants Taeyong to know that he's happy, not just because of the food, but because of everything. He can't find the words to express how he feels in this moment of time, but he hopes that his fingers slipping into Taeyong's hand is enough. 

Sicheng doesn't need to say _thank you_ because Taeyong knows it without any words needed.

**Author's Note:**

> yooo what did you think ???? there's a fly in my room so i can't think rn
> 
> EDIT: im making this three chapters instead of a one-shot and also kun will appear :^^)))))


End file.
